The Best Laid Plans
by Ke Roth
Summary: The best laid plans of mice and starship captains gang aft agley.


This was not how this day was supposed to end, Jean-Luc Picard thought to himself.

Angry at the unplanned turn of events, he snapped the cover of the communicator closed against the assault of the wind, cold and snow – then turned, chasing every trace of disappointment from his face.

"The rescue team is on the way, Beverly," he informed his companion as calmly as he could. "It may be some time," he added, forcing himself to keep his tone even.

"I heard," she replied breathily – then forced herself to smile at him. "Don't worry, Jean-Luc. It's just a broken leg," she reminded him from where she lay on the snow, her skis pointing at odd angles, testifying to the state of her damaged leg. "Rescuing the others from that avalanche has to be the priority of the rescue team; I'm not going to die if I have to wait an hour or two."

"You must be in pain," he countered – then instantly regretted then remark. "I'm sorry," he apologized.

"It's okay," Beverly answered. "At least the cold and the snow are keeping the swelling down. It's helping a bit."

"You're not too cold, are you?" he asked worriedly. "We do have the emergency kit..."

She shivered – then gasped as a wash of pain ran up her leg. "Then again, there is such a thing as being too cold," she admitted.

Anxious to do something for his fallen friend, he hastily opened the kit, pulling out the thermal blanket, then staring at it – and Beverly – uncertainly. Wrapping the blanket around her would mean moving her – and judging from the unnatural angle of her leg, that couldn't be done without hurting her.

Seeing his predicament, she smiled at him. "Wrap it around yourself, Jean-Luc, then try to wrap your arms around me. You should be able to push through the snow without moving me too much," she added.

Hastily moving to her side, he dug out a seat beside her body, then maneuvered as much as for blanket next to her before settling on it, carefully trying to slide his arm – and the blanket behind her, without moving her any more than he had to.

Even so, she gasped at the lightest touch, crying out as he lifted her shoulders out of the drift; she hissed once more as he settled her back against his arm, then heard her relieved sigh as he pulled the blanket around them both.

Even so, he could feel her heart racing as her chest pressed against his; the pain must have been excruciating, he thought. "They'll be here soon," he assured her.

She laughed. "It hasn't even been five minutes, Jean-Luc; it'll be another hour at least. I'll be fine," she added, then managed a chuckle. "I told you I wasn't much of a skier," she reminded him.

"You did well enough this morning," he countered.

"Beginner hills. Gentle slopes – and I still fell down half of the time," she reminded him. "I shouldn't have tried the intermediate slope," she sighed, nestling her head against him.

"I shouldn't have encouraged you," he answered, guilt welling up in him for his complicity in the decision.

It was my fault, he reminded himself; he knew Beverly was an inexpert skier, but even as he patiently slid down the small hills with her that morning, he felt the call of the steep slopes and more dangerous runs on the higher ridges. Aching to answer their call, he had praised Beverly's every success, urging her to try the steeper slopes before she was truly ready just so that he could fulfill his own desires – and this was the result.

"Don't blame yourself too much, Jean-Luc; I thought I was ready. Hutzpah," she chided herself.

"Courage," he answered. "After all, you rode the lift the whole way up without making one comment about the heights."

"Because I never looked down until the lift reached the top. And once we were there, I was on the ground again. And then the run down didn't look that steep,"

"It wasn't," he replied. "It was the last drift you hit. There must have been a rock or a small tree hidden by the snow. You hit it, then began to fall..."

And fall and fall, he thought, the memory of watching her body careening down the mountainside fresh in his mind, sickening him once again, even as he tried to put the sight out of his mind.

He had jumped off the same ledge, controlling his flight after her with a skill he had not thought he still possessed, quickly catching up to her, then moving ahead, turning his skis against the direction of the fall, slowing her descent with his own body until they finally came to a stop, Beverly's body, skis and poles a tangled heap.

She had been unconscious when he had finally kicked free of his own equipment, but his fears had quickly faded as she came to – only to be renewed when he realized the extent of her injuries. Legs were not, he thought to himself as he stared at her crumpled body, supposed to bend in the middle of the thigh.

Within seconds, Jean-Luc had been on contact with the resort's rescue team – only to find out that Beverly was not their immediate priority.

Where was the Enterprise and her transporters when you needed them? he asked himself grimly.

The answer was, of course, light years away. Having the Enterprise hovering overhead was not what he had wanted – not on this trip, not when he had plans – very special plans – that he did not want interrupted by a sudden call from his ship, his crew – or Starfleet Command.

This trip was for him – and for her, he added.

For us.

Together.

Or so he had hoped.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her ear as he held her.

"Don't be."

"This isn't how I wanted this trip to end."

He could feel her smile. "It's not over yet, Jean-Luc," she said, then moved closer, gasping slightly as the broken bone grated against itself, then rested heavily against him.

"It won't be long," he tried to assure her again.

"It's okay. You're here," she added. "I'll be fine. But..."

"But what?"

"But the pain is getting bad," she admitted. "I'm probably going to pass out. I don't want you to worry – just stay with me. Talk to me," she added wearily. "Tell me..."

"Tell you what?" he asked.

"Tell me... this trip... how it was supposed to end..."

He felt her head grow heavy, lolling against him as consciousness left her body.

For a moment, he panicked – then reminded himself that Beverly would not have lied to him about this: she wasn't dying, only injured, in pain – and now unconscious. All he need do is stay with her as they waited for the emergency team to get them.

And, he added, to tell her the truth.

"This trip... I wanted to take you away from the ship, Beverly," he whispered. "For so long, we've held back on what we feel for one another, both of us knowing what we feel – but always using the ship – Starfleet, our responsibilities, duty – to keep from telling each other what we both know. And as long as we stayed there, we would never say anything.

"I wanted to take that safety away from us. I wanted to give us both the chance to say what we truly feel. I wanted to take a chance on what we could have, Beverly – and not settle for possibilities in a future we might never meet.

"We both know how we feel, Beverly. I love you. I've loved you for so long. And I know you love me as well.

"But feeling that wasn't enough – for either of us. I wanted more – I wanted to give us both the chance for more – if that's what we wanted.

"Here, away from the ship, I wanted to talk with you, eat with you, play with you – to share time and events that weren't about duty rosters and missions and negotiations and disasters. And, if you felt as I did – if we both enjoyed each other's company as nothing more than that of friends, then perhaps... No," he said sharply, stopping himself, insisting on speaking the truth, even if she could not hear it.

"No. I did not want this to end as friends – but as more. I wanted to take you back to the chalet, to take you to my bed there, to make love with you, to wake in the morning with you in my arms, watching as the winter storm raged outside while we make love in the warmth of our bed... I even made sure there was a storm predicted for this week," he admitted. "I... I wanted this as a beginning to a life we share, Beverly. I wanted... I wanted this to be a beginning – for us. Together.

"But even the best laid plans..." he sighed.

"I'm sorry," he added softly, pressing his lips to her head. "I'm sorry."

Four hours later, the hospital's orthopedic surgeon entered the waiting room and moved toward where Jean-Luc stood looking out the window at the storm raging outside the window.

The wind howled as the flakes were driven against the window, just as he had thought it would – except, Jean-Luc added, he had not thought the window would be that of a hospital.

"Mr. Picard?"

Too tired to be startled, Picard turned to the man.

"Doctor?" he answered.

The surgeon smiled easily. "We've finished setting the bone in Dr. Crusher's leg. The surgery went very well, and she's being moved to her room. We'll be giving her something for the pain so she can sleep tonight, and tomorrow, we'll be able to fuse the bone and treat the inflammation of the tissues. No more skiing for at least a few weeks, but she should be able to resume some light activities in a day or two," he said pleasantly.

Picard nodded, relieved. "May I see her?"

"Of course. If you'll follow me," he said

Picard nodded, then trailed the man through the maze of antiseptic white halls to a door that appeared exactly the same as every other one.

Except Beverly lay behind this one.

The door opened at his approach, and, as he entered, a woman looked up from where she hovered over Beverly, smiled, then stepped away from the bed.

"Captain Picard?" she asked.

"Jean-Luc?" Beverly's voice followed from the bed.

"I'm here," he answered loudly.

The nurse smiled. "She's been fighting the pain medication, waiting for you to get here. She should fall asleep now – but if she should need anything, just press the call button," she said.

She passed by him, leaving the two alone.

Jean-Luc stared into the room, uncertain of what to do – then Beverly's voice called out again. "Jean-Luc?" she said wearily.

"I'm here," he said – then realizing she probably couldn't see him, hurried to the side of the bed.

"I'm here," he repeated, taking her hand in his.

She smiled at his touch – though judging from the beatific expression on her face, he suspected the medication was already at work.

"The doctor says everything went well," he added, uncertain of what he should say.

She nodded but said nothing more, just squeezing his hand.

After a few minutes, her eyes began to shut – and Jean-Luc realized that it was probably time for him to go.

He released her hand, only to hear a faint, "Jean-Luc?"

"Yes?"

"Don't go."

"No," he agreed.

She fell silent for a moment longer, then whispered, "Your storm is here."

He reddened. "You heard me?"

She nodded, then added, "If you turn the bed toward the window, we can both watch it."

He hesitated, suspecting it was a violation of some hospital rule – then quickly looked over the bed's control panel. Turning off the lock, he turned the bed so it faced the window.

"It's beautiful," Beverly said after a few moments.

He nodded.

"Would have been better from the chalet," she added.

"Indeed," he agreed.

"And from our bed," she added.

He glanced down at her, surprised – then nodded again. "It would."

She opened her eyes to look at him – then patted the bed beside her. "Stay with me, Jean-Luc. It's not quite the same thing," she said, "but it's all I can offer... tonight," she said.

He stared at her, stunned – then ran through every argument he could think of. Violation of hospital rules, conduct unbecoming an officer... then pushed them aside. Moving as gently as he could, he slipped onto the bed beside her – then wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you," he said softly.

She managed a weary laugh. "I have to fall off a mountain and break my leg to hear you say that, Jean-Luc..."

"I'll do the same if that what it takes to have you say it to me, Beverly," he replied quietly.

She looked at him – then raised her hand to caress his face.

He felt himself cringing, pulling back from that same touch that she had once given him only to say 'no' –then forced himself to meet her eyes once more.

She pulled his face close to hers, then kissed him softly. "You don't have to fall off a mountain, Jean-Luc. I love you, too."

Stunned, he stared at her, then pulled her – gently – against him, kissing her, softly at first, then with growing passion, until he felt her falling away as the drugs slowly took hold of her body.

For a long time, he watched her – then pulled the hospital blankets over them both, letting the storm rage just beyond the window even as they slept.

Together.


End file.
